
IMPORTANCE OF BEING 
A ROUGHNECK 

A Burlesque 
By ROBERT GARLAND 




VAGABOND PLAYS -No. 5 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING 
A ROUGHNECK 

A Burlesque 



BT 
ROBERT GARLAND 



The Norman, Remington Company 

Baltimore 

1921 






Copyright, 1921 
By ROBERT GARLAND 



M -9 1921 



CI.D 5790^5 



''Vw 



FOR 
EUGENE MAC DONALD BONNER 



First Produced 

at 

The Vagabond Theatre 

Tuesday Evening, March 4th, 1919 

CAST OF CHARACTERS 

EUSTACE CARDELL, an idler Harry Welker 

SYLVESTRE WALLESTONE, his friend, 

Harold Clark 
CLORILLA, his fiancee Edmonia Nolley 

ALFALFA SMOOT, a truck driver, 

B. Russell Murphy 

SCENE: The apartment of Eustace Cardell 
PERIOD: The present 
PLACE : Neio York City 

Produced by May Standish Rose 
Setting by Oliver Carroll Zell 



^THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING 
A ROUGHNECK" 

(A Burlesque) 

Eustace Cardell An Idler 

Sylvestre Wallestone His Friend 

Clorilla His Fiancee 

Alfalfa Smoot A Truck Driver 

Period: The Present 
Place: New York City 

The rising curtain reveals the studio of Mr. 
Eustace Cardell. 

The apartment is furnished in the manner of the 
moment. There are Japanese tassels, cylindric sofa 
cushions, a decorated fish boivl, a yelloiv bird-cage 
with a red wooden occupant, a floor lamp, etc., etc., 
and several really interesting paintings in the school 
of Matisse. If it is true that the home reveals the 
man, you tvould say that the oivner of the studio 
possessed a small amount of personality entirely 
surrounded by Vogue. There is a large window at 
the back of the room, and, beyond, a cherry tree 
sheds pale pink petals against a Belasco sunset. 

Eustace Cardell — our hero, as it tvere — lies full 
length on a couch of mild magenta silk, strumming 
Debussy on a lute. He tvoidd tell you, if asked, that 
he is playing the Second Arabesque, but you ivoidd 
be apt to think that Debussy is being used to cover 
a mtdtitiide of phonetic indiscretions. Eustace is 
the sort of man who wears a velvet house coat. You 
make him out to be a languid young idler of tiventy- 
four or five; good-looking, cynical and well groom,ed, 
with a latent sense of humor in his straightforward 
eyes. The only thing he really needs is two years 
military training. You feel, somehotv, that he has 
read too much Henry James and not enough Conrad. 

5 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

Nearby, his friend, Sylvestre Wallestone, is 
seated in a high-backed Jacobean chair. He tvears 
a morning coat, ivhite spats, a boutonniere and all 
that sort of thing. He carries a single eye-glass on 
a ribbon. His almost pure Greek profile is silhou- 
etted against the glowing window, his feet are on a 
stool. As an object of art, Sylvestre is entirely sat- 
isfactory. He is the sort of person who spends his 
summers astonishing the natives of Provincetown. 

Eustace finishes the Arabesque, and, after a fetv 
chod^ds, sings softly, half to himself, 

EUSTACE 

(Singing) 

For I'm in love with the furthest star, 

So far is it away 
That I do not know what its habits are, 

This star so far away; 
Oh, Fm in love with the furthest star 

That faints in the Milky Way. 

You're pale as absinthe, star o' mine. 

Don't dally with the moon, 
For she is wise, with fervid eyes 

That make the senses swoon. 
Oh, I'm in love 

sylvestre 

{With a sigh) 

Oh, God, how life wearies me! If you love me, 
Eustace, do not sing. It is more, far more, than I 
can bear. Why was I born anachronistic? 

EUSTACE 
Who knows? 

sylvestre 
Modernity hangs over me like a pall. 
(A gentle breeze stirs the branches of the cherry 
tree and a shower of petals falls to the ground, Syl- 

6 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

VESTRE waves a languid hand in the direction of the 
window,) 

Was it Whistler who pointed out that nature fol- 
lows art? 

EUSTACE 

When a thing is true, who said it is of no impor- 
tance? Any truism is vulgar and should remain 
anonymous. A lie is a work of art and should be 
signed and acknowledged by the artist. 

SYL VESTRE 

You are quite right, my friend. You yourself 
have been guilty of a truism. You have therefore 
been vulgar. But I forgive you. 

EUSTACE 

Pray do not forgive me. I cannot bear to be for- 
given. We only forgive persons whose opinions are 
valueless. Forgiveness is the sincerest form of in- 
sult. 

SYL VESTRE 

Look at that absurd breeze plagiarizing Madame 
Butterfly. 

EUSTACE 

And without music, too! I shall accompany it. 
{He strikes a few chords on his instrument. The 
breeze dies down and the petals cease to fall.) 
Now it has stopped. 

SYL VESTRE 
Hov; unappreciative nature is! 

EUSTACE 

And I play with great expression, too. I don't 
play at all accurately, anyone can play accurately, 
but I play with wonderful expression. 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

SYLVESTRE 

How can you say such things? 

EUSTACE 
I can't. Wilde said them for me 

SYLVESTRE 

Oh, how life wearies me! 

(There is a pause, SYLVESTRE rises to light a 
cigarette. Lighting a cigarette is a ceremony with 
him.) 

Wednesday is a ghastly day. It is neither the 
beginning of the week, nor the end. 

EUSTACE 
Wednesday is impossible. It suggests oak furni- 
ture, matinees, the suburbs and other unpleasant 
things. Wednesday is as middle-class as an easel, 
as unbelievable as an upright piano. 

SYLVESTRE 

I was born on a Wednesday. 

EUSTACE 
You would be. 

SYLVESTRE 

All the unpleasant things in my life have occurred 
on Wednesday. 

EUSTACE 
(Wearily) 
Wednesday is a fatal day. 

SYLVESTRE 
Not only was I born on Wednesday, I was chris- 
tened on Wednesday, although I believe I protested 
at the time. And, if I remember correctly, I was 
married on Wednesday. 

8 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

iLUSTACE 

Fancy ! 

SYLVESTRE 
Friday is my lucky day ; I was divorced on Friday. 
Friday is a day of joy, that is, unless one is a fish. 

EUSTACE 

I should love to be a fish. I once wrote a beautiful 
poem about being a fish. I shall recite it to you. 
(He recites, accompanying himself on the lute) 

I wish 

I were a fish; 
To swim about 
As does a trout 
Would be my wish. 

No one's suspic- 
ious of a fish; 
A daring shad 
Could not be bad 
Were that his wish. 

Live calm and cool, 
Deep in a pool ; 
And when I die, 
In state to lie 
Upon a dish. 

Oh, how I wish 
I were a fish ! 

SYLVESTRE 

Charming ! 

EUSTACE 
I composed it one morning in the aquarium. My 
favorite fish, a peculiarly pensive pike, inspired it. I 
read it to an attendant, a rough sort of person with 
appreciative eyes. He said he thought so. 

9 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

SYLVESTRE 

What an adventure ! 

EUSTACE 

I am in a pale gray mood and would talk of love. 
A happy discontent holds me and v^ill not let 
me go. I could lie here hour by hour and v^atch 
the tremulous spiral from your cigarette fade in 
the air like a faint, frail, frightened down. 

SYLVESTRE 

You talk as if you had been reading Schopenhauer. 
EUSTACE 

I feel as if I had been reading the Atlantic 
Monthly. The world and its toil seem far away, re- 
mote as a Jersey suburb. Let us shut out the sun- 
set's bourgeois glare and light the candles upon the 
walls. Post-impressionism may be very well in art, 
but in nature it should be discouraged as one dis- 
courages pink postage stamps and pleasant people. 

(SYLVESTRE Hscs with Consummate artistry and 
draws the Venetian blinds. With heavy curtains he 
shuts out the bars of intruding light. Slowly, one 
by one, he lights the scented tapers ensconsed about 
the room) 

(Eustace strums on his lute, chanting his lay 
about the fish. He ivatches his friend with dreamy 
eyes. At last Sylvestre flings himself back into the 
Jacobean chair) 

SYLVESTRE 

How tired I am. Where is your man today? 

EUSTACE 

Poor Brooks ! He is by way of becoming fashion- 
able. He is lecturing at the Colony Club on "Matri- 
mony and the Masses." 

10 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

SYLVESTRE 

Don't tell me Brooks is married. 

EUSTACE 

Not for the moment, but he has been married five 
times in the past six months. 

SYLVESTRE 
How optimistic! 

EUSTACE 

Marriage has become a habit with him. His last 
wife was a revolutionist. Before marriage she used 
to go out every evening and lecture to school girls 
on birth control. 

SYLVESTRE 
Did you ever see the creature? 

EUSTACE 
Heavens, yes. I met her lunching with Brooks at 
the Ritz. She was charming, really, and treated 
me almost as an equal. But marriage domesticated 
her, and as for birth control .... well, my dear, 
she stayed home every evening and drove poor 
Brooks to the streets. He grew desperate and threat- 
ened to commit suicide or move to Chicago, I don't 
remember which. But let us not talk of Brooks. 

SYLVESTRE 

Tell me of Clorilla. 

EUSTACE 
Clorilla's love is coldly chaste, a pallid princess in 
an ivory tower. Nature, growing envious of Burne- 
Jones' stained-glass femininity, fashioned Clorilla 
in his school, almost succeeding, but not quite. Na- 
ture endowed her with a stained-glass exterior, but, 
I fear, Clorilla has a Shavian mind. 

11 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

SYLVESTRE 

Poor dear Nature seldom quite succeeds. The 
best that she can do is fail successfully. 
(There is a pause) 
Tell me of Clorilla's love. 



EUSTACE 

Her love for me is a very precious thing. Her 
love for me is as precious as a new and untried sin. 
It is a love difficult to live down to. It is a love too 
true to be good. But, for the moment, we have 
parted, she and I. 

SYLVESTRE 

Parted? You and Clorilla have seen fit to part? 
How you intrigue me. 



EUSTACE 

Yes, we have parted. She endeavored to reform 
me. A woman who loves you is a trial and may be 
borne, but a woman who endeavors to reform you 
is a nuisance and should be abolished. Clorilla is 
one of those women who thinks a man can be done 
over as if he were a fiat. So I abolished her. 



SYLVESTRE 

Eustace, I fear for you. 

EUSTACE 
Sylvestre, I fear for myself. But I shall be brave, 
never fear. And then, of course, one can always 
run. 

SYLVESTRE 

How brave you are, Eustace. I should as soon 
think of carrying on an intrigue with a bomb. 

12 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 
EUSTACE 

Clorilla has her strong points, heaven knows, but 
a strong point never fails to prick the bubbled iri- 
descence of my lonely love. 

SYLVESTRE 

"The bubbled iridescence of my lonely love." How 
beautiful. It is like something from Verlaine. 

EUSTACE 
(Grasping his lute) 

I could fashion a poem from it. I could fashion 
a sad, a beautiful poem from it, a poem something 
like this: 

(He accompanies himself with a few broken 
chords) 

The bubbled iridescence of my lonely love 
Is as a thread of pale pink pallid smoke 
Floating above the sad horizon of my soul — 
My aching soul .... 
And I am pregnant with a vague unrest 
That seems to stir this weary heart of mine 
Until I feel that all my being needs 
Is — is 

SYLVESTRE 

Calomel. 

EUSTACE 

Don't be vulgar, Sylvestre. Vulgarity is the last 
refuge of the ignorant. And calomel is only used 
by clergymen. I shall finish the verse some other 
time. It is quite as beautiful as Verlaine's absinthe- 
tinted song. 

SYLVESTRE 

We were speaking of Clorilla. 

EUSTACE 
Clorilla is a combination of clashing curiosity. I 
understand her, and I mistrust that which I under- 

13 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

stand. She is naturally sweet and healthy, poor 
dear, but in an attempt to appear intellectual she 
gives the impression of ingrowing discomfiture. She 
has a mind as romantic as a Chambers novel, but 
she talks like Henry James. 

SYLVESTRE 

No man could live with a woman who reminded 
him of "The Golden Bowl." 

EUSTACE 

You understand almost every individual word Clo- 
rilla utters, you sometimes catch the verb, but the 
subject of her conversation is as elusive as a New 
York theatrical manager. 

SYLVESTRE 
Speaking of managers, isn't it time to introduce 
a plot? 

EUSTACE 

Plots are for the provincial. As I told you, Clo- 
rilla and I parted several days ago, parted in un- 
utterable anguish. The parting was superb. She, 
clever creature, was more like Ben-Ami than Ben- 
Ami would ever dare to be. 

SYLVESTRE 

Clorilla would be magnificently masculine at such 
a time. Words are but empty shells, hollow, mean- 
ingless, where Clorilla is concerned. 

EUSTACE 

{Intensely) 

I wish you could have seen her, friend of mine. 
Her hair, where it caught the candlelight, glistened 
dully like a copper kettle, while in the shadow it bore 
the semblance of strawberry jam, so darkly red it 

14 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

was, so redly dark. Her gown, clinging to her like 
a frightened kitten to a tree, was the gorgeous green 
of the pulsing sea, overlaid with a beautiful bilious 
blue. But, oh, her face, her hopeless, heedless, help- 
less face! I wept at sight of it. Gray it was, the 
gray of ashen hopes, slashed by the careless crimson 
of her luscious, languid lips. 

SYLVESTRE 

Oh, my God, how resplendent she must have been, 
how sublime! Did not you fall before her concin- 
nity? 

EUSTACE 

Her concinnity meant nothing to me, but her eyes 
drove me to despair. She looked into my face as if 
it were a clock and she were forty minutes late, 
and I trembled before her glance. 

SYLVESTRE 

What did she have to say? 

EUSTACE 

She would return, she said, within a day or two. 
If by that time I had not done myself over as she 
would have me to do, I would rue the day. 

SYLVESTRE 

I have often wished to "rue the day," but have 
never known just how to go about it. 

EUSTACE 

The words are hers; I have no idea what they 
mean, nor do I care. Yesterday I wrote and told her 
that I pleased myself entirely. I would not change, 
I could not change, not even for Clorilla. 

(There is a knocking at the door) 

15 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

SYLVESTRE 
(Dramatically) 
Enter Clorilla ! 

EUSTACE 

Fate pauses at my portal, Sylvestre. 
(The knocking is repeated) 
Kismet grows impatient ; let it in. 

SYLVESTRE 

What a bore! What a beastly bore! Why don't 
people make sure one is out before they call ? 

(Sylvestre opens the door. Clorilla enters. She 
looks as Nazimova did in ''The Comet," only more so. 
She walks — ''undulates" tvould be a far more faith- 
ful term — to where Eustace lies on the couch. He 
watches her approach with fascinated eyes. When 
she reaches the couch, he speaks) 

EUSTACE 
(Solemnly) 
Clorilla, is it you ? 

CLORILLA 

(Deeply) 

Yes, Eustace, it is I. 

(She picks up his lute and flings it across the 
stage) 

I come fresh from the throbbing world outside to 
fmd you steeped in silk and incense, luting your 
very soul away. It's revolting. Have you no pride, 
no ambition? Have you no conception of life's vast 
responsibilities? 

EUSTACE 
(Rising) 
Clorilla ! Clorilla mia ! 

CLORILLA 

Don't speak to me, not even in Italian. The ca- 

16 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

dence of your voice annoys me, your articulation 
drives me mad. 

EUSTACE 

At any rate, you can't say that I bore you. 

CLORILLA 
No, Eustace, I cannot say you bore me. I wish 
you did. If you bored me, I could marry you and 
live happy ever afterward. Mutual boredom is the 
foundation of all marital happiness, it makes the 
outside world so very interesting. No, Eustace, you 
do not bore me. 

EUSTACE 
Continue, Clorilla. The lilt of your voice is like 
a perfect poem ; its rise and fall is like the sobbing 
of the sea. When you speak, it is as if Pablo Casals 
drew his bow across his 'cello. I can shut my 
eyes and hear the throb of Schumann's "Abendlied." 



CLORILLA 

(Suddenly fierce) 

To think that I once gave my girlish love to you. 
To think of it. But I was innocent then, untarnished, 
undefiled. I did not know, dear God, I did not know. 
Now I have lived and loved and laughed ; now I have 
found out that there is no Santa Claus. The goddess 
of adventure has kissed me on the brow, awakening 
me from my sweet unsullied sleep. The blindness 
of innocuousness has fallen from my eyes. At last 
I have learned to see. 

EUSTACE 

Clorilla, you are wonderful, superb. My eyes 
seem to have been renovated, too. I see you in a 
different light and my hungry heart is breaking with 
the need of you. Clorilla, may I be yours? 

17 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

CLORILLA 
No. There's nothing I could do with you. 

EUSTACE 

You've no right to talk to me like that. We're not 
married — yet. We're not even engaged. 

CLORILLA 

I — married to you. Why, I hate you. I loathe 
you. I detest you. I abhor you. I — I 

SYLVESTRE 
Would "abominate" be of any help? 

EUSTACE 

Many successful marriages are founded on a hate 
such as yours. 

(Sylvestre, ivho has closed the door, coughs 
nervously as he resumes his seat quietly, CLORILLA 
turns to his direction) 

CLORILLA 

{To Sylvestre) 

And I hate you too. I despise every man I ever 
knew now that I have found a real man. I abomi- 
nate you and all your kind. 

EUSTACE 
You have found a real man? Do sit down, Clo- 
rilla, and tell us of your find. 

SYLVESTRE 

Yes, Clorilla, have a seat and tell us all about him. 

(Sylvestre gets a chair for her and helps her 
with her wraps. She arranges herself artistically, 
Sylvestre drops to a cushion on the floor) 

18 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

EUSTACE 

Pray proceed. 

CLORILLA 

(Effectively) 

I have become engaged to a real man, a blondly 
beautiful man whom I plucked from a motor-truck 
as one plucks any flower in life's guileless garden. 
By profession he is the driver of a brewery truck. 
He thinks Omar Khayyam a new kind of drink and 
Shaw an upper class attempt at profanity, but by 
physical standards he is a god among gods, a young, 
lusty god of the olden, golden days. He sat above 
me in the Avenue, wrapped in blue shirted disdain, 
delivering near-beer to the Vanderbilts. And I 
craved him, tan shoes, checked cap and all. 

EUSTACE 

And they say romance is dead. 

SYLVESTRE 

Has he a name? They do have names, you know. 

CLORILLA 

His name is Smoot ; Alfalfa Smoot. 



SYLVESTRE 

(Lyrically) 

Smoot, Smoot; beautiful Smoot. Smoot of the 
evening, beautiful Smoot. 

EUSTACE 

Alfalfa Smoot! Where have I heard that name 
before? Why didn't you bring him in to tea? 

CLORILLA 

Mr. Smoot is here. 

19 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

EUSTACE 

Here? 

CLORILLA 

My fiance waits without. 

EUSTACE 

Why leave him outside as if he were a Ford ? Does 
he not care for tea? 

CLORILLA 
Tea? He? 

EUSTACE 

Don't giggle, please. It doesn't become you. 

CLORILLA 

Tea! Tea indeed! Can you imagine my Alfalfa 
taking tea? 

SYLVESTRE 
While I do not know the habits of Alfalfa, it is 
quite the thing for his co-workers to descend from 
their motor-trucks to imbibe chocolate nut sundaes 
as a sort of breakfast aftermath. I see dozens of 
them at it every morning. Now anyone who could 
enjoy a chocolate sundae at 10 A. M. could not pos- 
sibly object to a cup of tea at five in the afternoon. 

CLORILLA 
We have no time for trifles. Upon his motor- 
truck he brought me here, and upon his motor-truck 
will he carry me away. Disguised as a bottle of 
almost-beer, I rode beside him proudly, reverently. 
When the day was barely eleven hours old I met my 
love in the Avenue. A post-superman he appeared ; 
big and brave and blond, and, oh ! so strong. With 
tear-filled eyes I watched him carry a keg to the 
Carnegies, carry it upon his shapely shoulder as if 

20 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

it were much less than naught. I have seen him, 
with his two bare brown hands, toss beer-kegs about 
as if they were toy balloons. You, Eustace, he could 
crush between his fingers, and I have brought him 
here to show you what a superman can do. I have 
brought him here to kill you. 

EUSTACE 
To kill me? You would have him kill me? 

SYLVESTRE 

To kill him? You would have him murdered by 
Alfalfa? 

CLORILLA 
(To Eustace) 
Yes. He is to kill you. 

SYLVESTRE 

(Approaching Clorilla) 

Be kind to him, friend of mine. See, he is all un- 
nerved. His face is soda-cracker pale. 

CLORILLA 

(Dramatically) 
He — must — die. 

SYLVESTRE 

(On his knees before her) 

You, v/ho are a woman, have pity on him. He does 
not want to die. 

(Turning to Eustace) 

You do not v/ant to die, do you Eustace? 

EUSTACE 

No, not on Wednesday. It would break my 
mother's heart were I to die on Wednesday. Even 
father would be annoyed. 

21 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

SYLVESTRE 

Have mercy, you who are so beautiful, so tender, 
so compassionate. Clorilla, I entreat you, have a 
heart. 

CLORILLA 

He must die. 

EUSTACE 

{Sinking hack on the couch) 
No — no — no ! I cannot die on Wednesday. Can*t 
you put it off till Monday? 

SYLVESTRE 
{Rising) 

You hear him, Clorilla. Grant the lad's request. 
Put it off till Monday. Come now, do. 

CLORILLA 

Monday? Why Monday? 

EUSTACE 

I have no engagements then. 

CLORILLA 
You must die — today. 

SYLVESTRE 

Monday is only five days off, I pray you. . . . 

CLORILLA 

He must die today. Alfalfa may be busy Monday. 

EUSTACE 
Wait until IVe had my tea. 

22 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

CLORILLA 

I cannot wait. Today is your day of death. No 
power on earth can change it now. The stars have 
spoken. You are to die. I pray you are prepared. 

EUSTACE 

I am a pacifist. 

(Raising a gold whistle to her lips, Clorilla sends 
a shrill, vibrant blast through the agitated atmos- 
phere) 

SYLVESTRE 

God help you, amico mio. 

(A moment later, Mr, Alfalfa Smoot enters hesi- 
tantly. You can see at a glance that the thrill of 
adventure has begun to wane, that his ivait outside 
has given him time to think things over. Removed 
from his natural environment, he is very ill at ease. 
Intuitively he realizes that he does not belong. He 
is as incongruous as a porpoise in Fifth Avenue or 
a battleship in Denver. He is discordant and in- 
appropriate, and he has the sense to know it. He is 
big and blonde and as supermanish as anyone could 
possibly desire. He is coatless and his blue shirt is 
open at the neck; a checked cap is clutched in his 
hirsute hand. Taken as a whole. Alfalfa Smoot is 
well ivorth looking at, although for the moment he is 
not at his best. He shifts uneasily from foot to foot 
as Clorilla takes him in with admiring eyes. He 
makes a move as if to exit suddenly) 

CLORILLA 

Oh, glorious creature, divine quintessence of con- 
centrated manhood! 

SMOOT 
Yes'm. 

CLORILLA 

Oh, beauteous one, straight from the Book of the 
23 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

All and None ! Oh, magnificent monarch of human- 
ity, I adore you. 

SMOOT 

Yes'm. 

(Smoot has left the door open behind him and 
Sylvestre crosses the room to close it. In doing so, 
he passes in front of the truck-driver) 

SYLVESTRE 

I beg your pardon. 

SMOOT 

(Not to be outdone in politeness) 
Granted. 

EUSTACE 
(From the couch) 

Where have I heard that voice before? 
(He rises on one elboiv and looks Smoot over 
carefully) 

Good heavens, it's my friend of the aquarium. It 
is he v^ho was the first to hear my poem about the 
fish. 

I wish 

I were a fish ; 
To swim about 
As does 

SYLVESTRE 

(Interrupting) 

Behold Alfalfa Smoot, the fishes' friend. 
(Clorilla approaches Smoot fearlessly and places 
her jeweled hand on his stupendous shoulder) 

CLORILLA 

Pay no attention to them, my superman. They 
are envious of your virility, they crave your mar- 
velous manhood. Let them sneer at your stamina if 
they will, they know nothing of dynamics. You are 
a tower of strength, you are as a giant refreshed. 
My Atlas ! My Hercules 1 My adamantine Antseus ! 

24 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

SMOOT 

Yes'm. Thank you, ma'am. 

CLORILLA 

My superman, would you do anything for me? 
(Smoot looks uneasily about the room. He droops 
his cap and picks it up guiltily) 
Would you do anything for me? 

SMOOT 

(Without conviction) 
Ye— Yes'm. 



{Insistently) 
Anything? 

Ye— Yes'm. 



CLORILLA 



SMOOT 



CLORILLA 

Spoken like the hero that you are. These are 
heroic times, my man, and you are in tune with 
them. 

(She dratvs nearer to him) 

My hero ! My Hector ! Would that I could hang 
myself like a jewel about your neck. 

SMOOT 

Lady .... 

CLORILLA 

My blonde beast, my own true superman. Listen 
well to what I have to say. I teach you the super- 
man, said Zarathustra. . . . Man is something to be 
surpassed. What is the ape to man? A laughing- 
stock, a thing of shame. And just the same shall 
man be to superman; a laughing stock, a thing of 
shame. I tell you; one must have chaos in one to 
give birth to a dancing star. Thus Zarathustra. 

25 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

SMOOT 

{Conversationally) 
Good-bye. 

CLORILLA 

My king. 

{She makes as if to stvoon in his arms, but Smoot 
stands her on her feet) 

SMOOT 

Nix on de vampire stuff. I lost a watch dat way. 
{He starts for the door) 

CLORILLA 

Come, Alfalfa dear. Don't desert me now. 

SMOOT 

{With a heavy attempt at wit) 
I hear me beer-truck callin' me. 

CLORILLA 

Don't desert me now ; don't fail me in my hour of 
direst need. I need you more than your beer-truck 
needs you. Alfalfa, do not depart. 

(Smoot hesitates) 

SYLVESTRE 

{To Smoot) 

You'd better go, my friend. Remember, he who 
hesitates is bossed. 

CLORILLA 

My superman will not desert me, never fear. He 
would not fail a maiden in distress. 

(Smoot, vjho is about to depart, becomes just a 
hit curious as to coming events. He lingers near the 
door) 

Sylvestre, look at him. Look at him, I say. How 
Nietzsche would have worshipped him. 

26 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

SYLVESTRE 

He'd be wonderful in Chicago. 

CLORILLA 

He'd be wonderful anywhere. 

SYLVESTRE 

Isn't he a bit out of drawing in the East? 

CLORILLA 

(Impatiently) 

Out of drawing or not, I have brought him here to 
kill your friend. 

(CLORILLA turns to Eustace, tuho is lying on the 
couch) 

Eustace Cardell, your time has come to die. Take 
one last look at all the tawdry things you hold most 
dear, for you have but a little while to live. Take 
one last lingering look at your woosey Webers and 
your mad Matisses, for you cannot take them with 
you when you pass beyond the behind. Your da3/3 
of futility are at an end. 

SYLVESTRE 

Yes, Eustace ; pipe your Picassos and kiss your 
chaste Cezannes, for you have got to die. 

CLORILLA 
My heart bleeds for you, my Eustace, but your 
demise is a strategic necessity for me. Make, there- 
fore, your fond farewells, for you and your lute will 
soon be forever silent. You have spurned my love 
and I am glad, for by your death I am benefiting all 
mankind. 

SYLVESTRE 
May he not admire his Maeterlinck, dote on his 
Dostoevsky for awhile? 

27 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

CLORILLA 
No. We have no time to dally with Dostoevsky. 
(Turning to Eustace) 

Your hour has struck and you must die. You 
must die, not because you spurned my maidenly de- 
sire, but because you are what you are. You are 
too precious for this world of ours, too refined. 
When I look first at Alfalfa Smoot and then at you, 
when I 

SMOOT 

Honest, Lady, I gotta be goin'. 

CLORILLA 
One moment, friend of mine, and you and I will 
depart hence hand in hand. 

SMOOT 

Honest, lady, I gotta be goin' — now. 

CLORILLA 

Before you go you must kill the man who is lying 
there in a detachment so perfect as to be almost 
alcoholic. To every man the chance of greatness 
comes but once; your chance is now at hand. Re- 
member this, my friend ; you are not killing him for 
me, but for society. You are killing him for all 
mankind. 

SMOOT 
I ain't got nothin' against dat 



CLORILLA 

Ah, modest one, is it not glorious to benefit man- 
kind? 

SMOOT 
I ain't got nothin' against dat guy. He's a good 
guy, he is. Honest to Gawd he is, lady. Dat day 
in de aquarium he gimme free bits fer 

28 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

CLORILLA 

No matter what he gave you in the aquarium or 
elsewhere, you must not betray posterity. Your 
duty is plain; you have no right to hesitate. You 
must kill him — dead. 

SMOOT 

You ain't spealdn' to me. 

CLORILLA 

Kill him for me, dear heart, if you will not do it 
for society. Kill him for me. Surely you will grant 
this slight request before you depart. 

SMOOT 

(Uneasily) 

So help me, lady, I gotta go. 
(CLORILLA teai's a hat pin from her hat and slips 
it to him) 

CLORILLA 

Demolish him ! 

SMOOT 

(Accepting the hat pin) 
Yes'm. 

CLORILLA 

Puncture him with that. 

SMOOT 

Yes'm. 

(Smoot tiptoes over to the couch where EUSTACE 
lies. He holds the hat pin as if it were a homh. He 
looks apprehensively about. When he reaches the 
couch he leans over Eustace and whispers noisily) 

What's de matter wid de skoit? 

EUSTACE 

(Laying aside his book) 
Zarathustra has spoken to her. 

29 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

SMOOT 

Come again? 

EUSTACE 
(Patiently) 
Zarathustra has spoken to her. 

SMOOT 

Gawd ! You don't say so. 

EUSTACE 

(Quoting Nietzsche) 

Zarathustra stepped down the mountain side alone 
and met — Clorilla. Pure is Zarathustra's eye, my 
friend, nor doth any loathsomeness lurk about his 
mouth. 

SMOOT 

Yes, sir. 

EUSTACE 
(Still quoting) 

Doth Zarathustra not skip like a dancer? Doth 
he not 

SMOOT 

(Knowingly) 

Ohhhh! I got yuh, Steve. 

EUSTACE 

I felt sure you'd understand. 

SMOOT 

You ought 'a' told me in de foist place. 
(Eustace rises unhurriedly and hands Smoot a 
banknote) 

EUSTACE 

And now, Smoot, I think you'd best be going. Any 
dramatic value you may have possessed has now 
waned. You are already an anticlimax. 

30 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

SMOOT 

Yes, sir. 

EUSTACE 

If I can ever do anything for you 



SYLVESTRE 

Or I. 

SMOOT 

(Departing) 

Thank yuh, sirs. Thank yuh kindly. Til tell my 
wife about your kindness; mebbe she'll name the 
new baby after youse. 

SYLVESTRE 

That would be delightful. Eustace Sylvestre 
Smoot would make a charming name. Goodbye, and 
good luck to you. 

EUSTACE 

Goodbye, Smoot. Take care of yourself. 

SMOOT 

Thank yuh, sirs. 

(He touches his forehead after the manner of his 
ancestors) 

Good day, and thank you both. 

(As Smoot goes out, Clorilla looks after him 
with speechless wonderment) 

SYLVESTRE 

Aren't you going to speak to Smoot? This is no 
time to cut Alfalfa. 
(Exit Smoot) 

EUSTACE 

(Approaching Clorilla) 

Come, Clorilla ; come, my love, to me. Mind, you 
see, has once more triumphed over matter. 

31 



THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING A ROUGHNECK 

{As Eustace speaks, Clorilla, a faded fragile 
flower, falls faintly to the floor, Eustace bends 
adoringly over her) 

How helpless you are, my darling, and how dear. 
Nothing shall ever take you from me, you sweet, 
timid, clinging woman-thing. 

(At this, Clorilla raises herself on her elbow. 
Turning on Eustace like a maddened animal, she 
bites him on the thumb) 



CLORILLA 

(Shrieking) 

You — you — you dilettante! 

(At this insidious insult a ghastly neolithic, if not 
paleolithic cry springs from Eustace's lips. With 
his uninjured hand he deals her a stinging blow on 
the corpus. Clorilla is almost overcome with joy) 

Eustace, my Eustace, strike me again. Again! 
Again ! ! 

(Eustace does as he is told) 

Dear heart, dear heart of oak, I have found my 
superman at last. I have found my superman and 
he is— YOU ! 

(Clorilla faints ornamentally in his arms) 

sylvestre 

Good heavens ! I never dreamed that Eustace was 
a roughneck! 

(The Curtain falls swiftly) 



32 



